


red queen

by thekuroiookami



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Bodice-Ripper, Canon Compliant, DmC 4 interlude, Dominance, F/M, First Meetings, Light Bondage, Mild Kink, One Night Stands, POV Alternating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Swordplay, Threats, nameless lady, vague european setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 04:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekuroiookami/pseuds/thekuroiookami
Summary: Vergil runs into a mysterious woman in red and finds that he can be motivated to spend time with a human...





	red queen

They called her reckless. She herself preferred to think of it as 'unafraid'.

 

If there was a dare to be taken, she took it. If there was a wall, she climbed it. If the rain left pools of water in the cobbled streets, she would splash through them all.

 

So perhaps it was a given that she'd turn to look at a man whose shadows lay long. 

* * *

 

She first noticed him on market day.

 

A vendor was haggling with her over the price of rosemary, of all things, when someone bumped into her. 

 

"Excuse me," came a low voice. A hand firmly gripped her elbow to steady her. 

 

Her gaze swept up to his face, naturally, words of thanks forming on her lips. They died at the sight of his face. Starkly handsome, uncompromising.

 

Blue eyes like a frozen lake in winter.

 

Something in her sat up and took notice. Something fierce and untamed, that whispered to her of challenge.

 

But before she could say anything, he was gone, swallowed by the crowds.

* * *

 

Vergil didn't like this city. 

 

It was too bright, too clean, and too...peaceful. The roads were paved well, the buildings were graceful spiraling creations, the parks trim and lush.

 

He didn't trust anything that hid its darkness so well. 

 

Frankly, when the demons swarmed him, he was relieved. This bloodlust and hatred, this was honest. 

 

When he'd finished dispatching them, he continued down the alley. He kept his head ducked under his cloak while weaving through a group. It wouldn't do for anyone to suspect the resemblance between him and their false god.

 

Awareness prickled on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. He paused and glanced back.

 

Odd. 

 

He could only see two women, talking in hushed voices as they walked away from him.

 

He kept walking.

* * *

 

 

After she spotted him again in the street, she contemplated. 

 

She wanted to find him, this man with danger clinging to him like a sultry perfume. However, she wasn't a fool. As exciting as the stranger was, she hadn't missed the sword at his hip. She didn't know what his intentions were.

 

Clearly, she would need to study him. 

 

And then...

 

Then she'd take it as it came.

* * *

 

 

Vergil tracked the last demon to a gated courtyard. Despite being injured, it had somehow escaped while he'd dealt with its horrific brethren. It had been a simple matter to follow the trail of blood, shining under the soft glow of gas lamps.

 

He ignored the locked gate and leapt over the spiked iron fence. The lizard swiveled at the crunch of grass under his feet and hissed. 

 

He drew Yamato and slid his foot back, waiting. 

 

It screeched and threw itself onto its death. There was a certain desperate agony to it, as if it knew what was coming and wanted to take him with it. 

 

He sliced through it cleanly, swift as a striking snake.

 

It took it a moment to realize it was dead. In that moment, the lizard whipped its tail and caught Vergil unawares. He flew back from the force of the blow, cracking into a sculpted fountain.

 

The spear of the marble angel decorating the fountain burst through his shoulder. He snarled, annoyed.

 

When he managed to remove himself from the impalement, his coat was unjustifiably ripped. He picked at the torn fabric in disgust.

 

"You look like you could use a hand."

 

He snapped his gaze to the fence.

 

A young woman in red smiled at him.

* * *

 

 

"So, Vergil, was it? What brings to you our fair city of Fortuna?"  

 

She smiled encouragingly and deftly wove the needle into the shoulder of his coat. He was sitting still, her mystery man, but he seemed uncomfortable.

 

"I was...curious about the Order of the Sword." He tilted his head back to look at the gargantuan church around them. It was built to soar majestically and inspire awe, but she had always just thought it too derived for her tastes.

 

"Oh?" She knotted the thread and bit it off. A quick glance at Vergil on the pew opposite hers showed him watching intently. A thrill shot through her.

 

"You worship Sparda. Why?" He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His sword gleamed quietly in the moonlight filtering through the windows.

 

She lifted a careless shoulder. "Why not? According to legend, he saved this city from complete annihilation."

 

"Hm." He turned his head to regard the altar, above which a figure of Sparda loomed, grave and implacable. "Perhaps, but you did not need to make him a god."

 

"I'll be sure to tell the Order that the next time they put it to a vote." She gave him an amused look.

 

He narrowed his eyes. "And  _ you _ ? Why are you helping me?" 

 

The condescension in his tone made her tighten her fingers on his coat. "If you don't want your clothes repaired, just say the word and I'll leave you here."

 

He pinned her with his cold gaze for seemed like a small eternity. Then he straightened. "Continue with your work. I do not think you have ulterior motives."

 

If that was an apology, it was the worst one she had ever heard. She exhaled to show her annoyance and resumed stitching. "Those who can slay demons are valued highly here. Should you wish to stay, the Order would welcome a knight."

 

Vergil scoffed. "There is nothing that could induce me to live among humans."

 

She raised her eyebrows at that strange hyperbole, but said nothing. It didn't seem like he would answer her anyway. "There, it's done."

 

She stood and moved closer to him, holding out his newly patched coat. Vergil also stood, and gripped the blue cloth. Before she could let go of it, he used it to pull her forward to into his chest.

 

Her breath squeezed out of her lungs as he dipped his head, eyes turning intensely sapphire.

 

"Stay."

* * *

 

 

The girl blinked at him, perplexed. Truth be told, he was also perplexed. Normally no mere human would receive any more notice from him than a chair would. 

 

But something about this young woman kept him rooted there. Her sly smiles and fleeting glances pulled at his attention. Her mouth was full and lush beneath her lively eyes. Her form was pleasing, too...

 

"Why do you wear red?" he asked. "I have not seen this shade elsewhere in this city."

 

Her expression turned slightly sardonic, lips curling in a mocking smile. "It is a warning."

 

His slumbering curiosity stirred. "A warning?"

 

"That I am more trouble than I am worth." She flashed him a smile and walked away, heading in the direction of the altar. He followed, like a mindless puppet being pulled forward by a string.

 

Stained glass windows cast glimmering spots onto her as she glided. One small rainbow danced over her hair and he wondered whether it would fall to her waist when it was unbound.

 

She stopped in front of the altar and looked up. He paused a few feet away, wary of getting any closer to her. 

 

"You know," she murmured, "he's never once answered my prayers."

 

Vergil looked up into the face of his father, who was at once more than a man and less than one. "He's never answered mine, either."

 

She laughed. "I guess there's no need to be respectful, then."

 

Vergil raised an eyebrow as she perched on the edge of the stone altar, playfully swinging her feet. 

 

She beckoned to him. "Come sit."

 

He shook his head. "I have no desire to be offered up like a virgin sacrifice."

 

Her smile widened. "Who said I was a virgin?"

 

Something hot and feral came to life in his chest. Vergil tilted his head at her. "You are playing a dangerous game."

 

Then she said the thing that tipped him over the edge. "I know."

* * *

 

 

Before her eyes, Vergil changed. It wasn't a dramatic transformation. He didn't sprout wings or grow horns. But it was no less impressive.

 

He suddenly became completely focused on her, the entire weight of his formidable attention and being pressing into the air. She swallowed and gripped the worn stone under her.

 

He walked towards her, intent. Every step he took was arrogant and dominating, as if he was claiming the earth under his feet. Vergil stopped close enough that her skirts brushed his feet.

 

She sucked in a startled breath as his hand slid into her hair and pulled her back to look at him. It didn't hurt, but there was just enough pressure to compel her. His eyes glowed. "I will take you."

 

Excitement swirled with rebellious rage in her veins. She smirked at him. "You can try."

 

A brief flicker of surprise crossed his face. Then he brushed his mouth over hers in a light caress, mouth curved wickedly. "You're going to regret that."

 

He moved away before she could press back or taunt him further. Vergil tossed his coat to the floor and tugged at his ascot. "Hold out your hands."

 

She remained as she was. "Why, afraid I'll hurt you?"

 

"No." He lifted her right wrist and dragged the edge of his teeth over her pulse. Naturally, it spiked until her heart was pounding in her ears. "But you might run."

 

"Only if it proves disappointing." She gave him a look through her lashes.

 

He cinched the ascot around her wrists, just tight enough to keep her from moving her hands too much. "I am going to enjoy proving otherwise."

 

She watched him, amused by his unfaltering egotism. He backed away from her and unbuttoned his vest with one hand. The other tightened around his sword.

 

"Are you ready?" His voice was smoky, drifting into unexpected places and curling against her skin.

 

"I might cry from the boredom." She shrugged at him.

 

He wasn't fooled. "You'll find other reasons for your tears soon enough."

 

She stiffened in surprise as he drew his blade. The steel seemed sharper in the dim light. Her breath became a shallow gasp when he pressed the tip of it to her throat. It hovered there, bleeding cold into her frantic pulse.

 

Her eyes met his over the shining metal. Without moving his burning gaze, Vergil trailed the blade downwards until it met the collar of her dress. 

 

Then he blurred, and she registered the noise of fabric tearing. Buttons scattered on the floor soundlessly. Cold air met her heated flesh where he had ripped through her dress and the modest garments beneath.

 

Vergil's eyes drifted over her exposed skin like he could prise out her secrets. "Mmm. Exquisite."

 

She lifted her chin in challenge, like she wasn't naked to her waist. "I am not impressed by wanton destruction."

 

"And I'm not done with you yet." Vergil sheathed his sword in a fluid motion. "Pull up your skirts."

 

She pressed her legs together to hide the reaction his words caused. Her core pulsed, wanting. "Ask politely."

 

He rolled his shoulders like a lion before it pounced. "I wasn't asking."

 

She lifted her bound hands in a gesture of resignation. "I guess you will be missing out, then."

 

"Unless you want them also torn, I suggest you comply right now." His tone indicated he wasn't making an idle threat.

 

She gave in. "Very well."

 

It was a bit clumsily done, since she couldn't move her hands much, but she managed to gather handfuls of her voluminous dress and hike it up to her hips. She kept her knees pressed together. She wouldn't give in so quick.

 

Vergil traced her lacy undergarments with his eyes and breathed out slightly. "Spread your legs."

 

"No." She kept her prim posture and air of defiance.

 

Something like triumph lit his eyes. "You asked for it."

 

This time, he kept the sword sheathed. The rough leather pressed against her knees, searching. She shook her head, drawing out the intoxicating anticipation. Vergil smirked and pushed her knees apart effortlessly. "Resistance is futile."

 

Her reply was lost in a startled moan. Vergil's sword pressed into her sex, a slow, steady pressure. Her arousal intensified, soaking through the thin silk between her legs. 

 

He smiled with male satisfaction and took a step closer, sliding his grip along the blade. "Look at you, helpless with wanting. I haven't even touched you yet."

 

She shot him a glare and tried to shift away. He kept the sword where it was, dragging it over her with a delicious friction. Heat built in the soles of her feet and rose upwards, burning all reason in its wake. She found her self moving her hips in reaction.

 

"Yes. Yield to me. Show me how much you yearn for my attention."

 

She threw her head back and panted, chasing the dizzying sensation. Her legs drifted apart of their own accord. Her need was evident now, slicking the leather sheath teasing her.

 

"I- I can't-"

 

She keened in despair when he drew the sword away. "Not so fast."

 

He prowled nearer and set the sword on the altar next to her. Vergil gripped her chin and tilted her face up, searching. She didn't know what he found there, but the set of his mouth was tinged with approval.

 

He dipped his head suddenly and trailed his nose along her throat. His hands pushed down her ruined bodice and roamed over her body as he inhaled her scent. The rough pads of his fingers only inflamed her already heightened senses. 

 

Vergil made a noise deep in his chest. "You are truly designed to test my restraint..."

 

She fisted her hands in his untucked shirt and pulled him closer. The linen was warm to the touch, while his abdomen was firm and chiseled. He chuckled and slid his hands up her thighs. She squirmed, frustrated beyond measure.

 

"Such impatience. Well then..." He leaned away slightly to unbutton his trousers. Vergil gripped his hard length, watching her through half-lidded eyes. "Tell me how much you want this."

 

She widened her eyes in outrage. "You'll be waiting a long time to hear that." 

 

He gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him. She arched her back with a desperate gasp. "I don't think so."

 

He rocked against her lazily, the pressure just short of sublime. She trapped him between her knees and tried to pull him into her. He didn't budge at all.

 

Vergil leaned to whisper in her ear. "We're only getting started, now."

* * *

 

 

It wasn't enough, he thought, snapping his hips forward. It was nowhere near enough. He had found his release inside her two times already, and his raging desire still bucked at the reins, fighting to free itself.

 

She tried to break free of his hold. He tightened his grip and used his weight to push her down. She was pressed face down onto the altar, her trembling legs barely keeping her upright. Bruises formed a necklace on her delicate skin, his gift to her for her relentless spirit. 

 

He thrust into her from behind with a fire he only felt while fighting. "Again," he commanded. "Come for me."

 

She shook her head, spilling some more of her tangled hair out of its pins. Her voice was hoarse from overuse. "I won't."

 

Vergil nipped at the back of her neck, relishing the chance to memorize the fragrance of sandalwood that permeated her skin. "Can't, or won't?"

 

She closed her eyes with a soft shudder as he buried himself deeper. "Won't."

 

"We'll see about that." He pushed up her crumpled skirts till his fingers found their way between her legs. She cried out in distressed pleasure. The fire in his bellly gathered, waiting to break. 

 

"V-Vergil, I-" Hearing his name uttered in benediction only spurred him on. He growled and lifted her hips until only her toes touched the ground.

 

She sobbed, a pure note of ecstasy that set the blaze alight down his spine. It was perfect and fitting. He would lay it all here, his weaknesses, use her fire to burn through them. 

 

"Remember me," he murmured into her skin. "Carve me into your soul and body. I will be immortal in you."

 

Her response was to turn her head, grab his hair with surprising strength, and pull him into a strained kiss. He had to brace a hand against the cool stone to kiss her back, tasting her passion.

 

It was too much for her and she screamed into his mouth, her body pulsing around him. He savored the sound of her capitulation like fine wine, thrusting harder. Pleasure climbed up his body, building up in a precarious tower. Then-

 

His mind became a sudden shock of white. He came hard, gasping. She sighed under him, a satiated noise. 

 

Vergil wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled out of her. His seed dripped out of her, trickling down soft thighs and dimpled knees. She lost her will to stand and slid to the ground, the flare of her dress settling around her like rose petals.

 

He positioned her so she could lean against the altar and catch her breath. The remnants of his climax skittered across his body, electric. He sat down next to her and studied her face.

 

Her remarkable eyes were closed, but her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her lips swollen from his attentions. If Vergil were so inclined, there would poetry to be found in her. He brushed a fingertip along her lashes, collecting a tear.

 

It tasted sweet.

 

Vergil scanned the church one last time, taking in the haunting statue, the defiled altar at its feet, and the girl sleeping on a bench, wrapped in a tapestry he had ripped from its moors. He had made up his mind.

 

He turned, and walked into the dark hours of early morning.

**Author's Note:**

> That cutscene in the special edition had me thinking about what kind of woman would be interested in Vergil; apparently the answer is - an adrenaline junkie.


End file.
